Closer
by catholicorprotestant
Summary: Francis put his dreams on hold to travel around the world with his aspiring rock star boyfriend, Arthur. 3 years pass and the relationship has turned toxic. Francis decides it's to call it quits, leaving back to Paris to pursue the fashion industry. Francis learns he needs to focus on healing. When an old flame returns, his world is rocked. TW:drug mention. implied abuse. addiction
1. Prologue

**_I probably shouldn't be writing this because I have too many unfinished fics, but I need this. Inspired by the song Closer by The Chainsmokers. TW: drug mention, implied abuse_** _**(This isn**_ _ **'t gonna romanticize drugs or addiction or toxic relationships, so if that's what you're looking for, this isn't it.)**_

* * *

The shouting was getting to be too much. The endless fighting. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as the sound of shattering glass fill the air. It hadn't been so long ago that these fights were exhilarating. They'd scream and fight and end with a passionate make up. They were both such passionate, spirited individuals. But after three years, it just felt stale. There wasn't a connection anymore. The fights were senseless. They no longer were at each other's throats for ideas. No longer was the fighting just pure emotional passion. Now it was bitterness. Bitterness that engulfed everything. What he wouldn't give for one more heated debate over literature or music or art.

"Fine. Fine, you win," Francis muttered turning around toward the bedroom.

He was so tired of this shit. Tired of being in the same place. At one point in time he would have followed Arthur to the ends of the world. Now it was just exhausting. He waited for Arthur to follow him, to apologize. He was met with deafening silence. At least the yelling had stopped. Three years. Three years since he met that talented punk singer at that bar in London. That had never been his scene, but Gilbert and Antonio had wanted to go, so he went and the rest was history. It was supposed to be the future. No. This was over. He couldn't deal with it.

Slowly he packed his things. He really didn't have much to his name. Just some clothes, memories. God, he couldn't believe it. He'd put his life on hold to follow his boyfriend around the world. Arthur always hoping to strike it big. Every time a big name back picked them up, his eyes would light up and he'd tell Francis this was the big shot they had. This was it. And every time the band fell flat. The members had left him four months ago surrendering to the fact maybe it wasn't meant to be. That had left Arthur a mess with nobody but Francis to pick up the pieces. But these days there was rarely a sober moment. God it used to be so fun.

Memories of after parties ran through Francis' head. He'd watched Arthur pound back shots with rock stars from all over the world. He'd seen him high and drunk and stoned and every state imaginable chasing that dream of stardom. He had abandoned himself somewhere along the way. What Francis wouldn't give to go back three years ago…

Arthur was gone when he immerged from his room. He couldn't say he wasn't thankful. He didn't want to deal with another fight. He couldn't. There was no energy. He stopped in front of the picture frame sitting on the shelf of their cramped apartment. Arthur and him in New York City two years ago. That had been such a fun night. What was the band that had picked them up again? He couldn't for the life of him remember. Some big hardcore band from Manchester. What he wouldn't give…

He pulled a piece of paper from the journal Arthur used to write music in and scrawled a note, tears pooling in his eyes. _"I love you, but I can't do this anymore. You have a problem. You need help. Call me when you're ready. Xoxoxo Francis Bonnefoy."_ He kissed his hand and gently placed it on Arthur's smiling face in the picture before walking out of the apartment for the last time.

The cold air hugged him, piercing and unrelenting. He just needed to make it to the apartment Antonio and Gilbert shared. Just for the night. He didn't want to drive right now. He didn't want to be alone. He threw his things in the car that barely ran and made the drive. The lights looked so pretty. The misty London fog engulfed everything. It was as though it was taking the last three years and hiding them. He wasn't entirely sure he blamed it. He wished it would just take him away.

He pulled into the parking lot outside the apartment and pulled himself from the car, brushing away the tears and trying to put on the brave front as he walked, holding the single bag of all his possession, toward the apartment. Three knocks and a sleepy Antonio opened the door.

"Franny!" He smiled, his face suddenly brightening.

"I left him," Francis whispered, shifting the weight of his bag.

He winced at the look on his friend's face. A mixture of relief, pitty, and worry. God, he hated his friends feeling sorry for him! He hated everyone feeling sorry for him. Treating him like he was stupid. _Why do you stay?_ He had heard that question so many times in the last two years. Did nobody get that he loved him? He loved him so much it hurt and so what if other people didn't understand? He was a strong person. He could leave. He just did. Antonio stepped aside letting the man in.

Gilbert was sitting on the couch, a laptop in his lap as he typed away. Probably an article for the travel magazine he worked for or maybe an entry on his travel blog. He had a pint of beer on the floor next to him. He glanced up, concern casting over his body when his eyes fell on Francis. God, could they stop? Francis felt himself trembling. He didn't want them to feel sorry for him. That was worse than anything.

"Can I stay here for the night?" His voice shaking, betraying him.

"Yeah, as long as you want," Gilbert closed the computer and pushed it aside, standing all in one fluid motion.

"I'm leaving in the morning," Francis took a breath to calm himself. "I'm going back to Paris. I've put things off too long."

"Are you sure?" Antonio asked rubbing the back of his head nervously. "Do you have any money?"

"I'll give you a loan," Gilbert offered.

"Merde…" he muttered under his breath. "No!" He closed his eyes, hugging himself. "I don't need your charity."

"It's not charity, Francis. You're our brother." Gilbert put his arm around him, guiding him to the couch.

"I don't want handouts." Francis pulled his knees to his chest. He wanted to shout at them not to look at him. Stop feeling sorry for him! Stop.

"I'm paying for you train ticket to Paris," Gilbert insisted.

"No, you're not." Francis took a deep breath. "I'm driving."

"That's six hours!"

"I know." Francis hid his face as the tears fell. He didn't want them to talk to him. He didn't want or need their pity. He was tired of it. Two years of it. Two fucking years.

"Do you have money?" Antonio asked gently, kneeling in front of him. "Gil and I can come with you. I'm sure the travel agency would be okay with an article and photos from Paris! Right, Gil?"

"Yeah! It'd be awesome. The three of us again." He nudged his friend.

"No, I couldn't. You wanted London. I…I couldn't. I'm okay." He stuttered.

"Only because you did!" Antonio smiled. "We have to stay together. We're best friends."

"No, no, it's okay," Francis insisted. "I just need a place for tonight. I can stay with family in Paris. I promise, I'll be okay." He forced a smile.

"Franny…" Antonio ventured nervously. "Do you have money?"

Francis was shaking. How could he let them know how stupid he had been? He'd given Arthur access to his account. A joint account. Arthur promised it'd be better for them both. How could he tell them Arthur had drained it? How could he tell them he had a measly 50 quid to his name? Shit, he'd have even less when he traded it for euros.

"He stole it, didn't he?" Antonio took his hand.

"He's not a bad person. He's…he's sick. He needs help," Francis started.

"I'm sorry, did someone force him to snort the coke?" Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Or shoot up the heroin? Or pound alcohol so hard it became his blood?"

"Gilbert…" Antonio gently silenced their friend. "I'm giving you money."

Antonio stood up and walked out of sight. Francis was too tired to stop him, too tired to speak. He was so embarrassed. How had he let this happen? He couldn't even be honest with them. He couldn't tell them the half of what he had gone through. But he was strong. He was leaving. He had stayed. He had tried. He tried to get him to get help. Hell his band had begged him. Arthur had chased that dream so far. At one point in their relationship, Arthur vowed he would never touch anything stronger than weed. And here they were. Francis was so sick. What had he done?

"Are you hungry?" Gilbert asked putting an arm around his friend.

"No," Francis whispered, closing his eyes as he leaned against him. "I'm okay."

That last night in London was a quiet one. Somber. Francis refused to speak. He just laid against Gilbert, fighting back tears. Antonio and Gilbert had both stayed up far too long with him. He felt guilty for it. He didn't even stay to say goodbye. He snuck out that morning, taking the envelope of money Antonio had left him. He was bound for home.

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 ** _Thank you for reading! Please review!_**


	2. Chapter 1

_**So for the time being mentions of spamano and gerita. There is some mention of Francis' past and childhood. That will be expanded on in future chapters.**_

* * *

 **4 years later**

Francis brushed a few tears off his face as he threw the bills across the room. They kept stacking up and honestly it was getting to be too much. He thought he'd had everything figured out when he moved out of his grandparents' home three and a half years ago. He'd found a small apartment in Levallois-Perret for 760 euros a month. It had been a stretch to find something this affordable, but he'd seized it. He had opted for a month Navigo pass since his car had died shortly after he'd moved in addition to the fact that it was really more of a nuisance when he thought about Paris roads and obsolete with the transportation. He remember when he'd first started driving when he was with Arthur. It had been fun, liberating. But it just wasn't meant for Parisian roads.

He was tired of seeing his paycheck disappear so quickly. It was suffocating. He _could_ do this. He could live alone and pay his own rent and bills and dress the part of one in the fashion industry. He knew he could…he just hadn't figured it out yet. He couldn't tell a soul. They'd feel bad for him. Poor Francis. God he was so tired of that. He wasn't a child. He didn't need their help or their pity.

He took a deep breath and wiped the last of the remaining tears away, picking up his phone. Gilbert and Antonio were wanting to meet for lunch. He groaned and leaned back against the couch. Just more money…but it wasn't like he could turn them down. They were going to get suspicious and he was not about to tell them he was barely scraping by. He was not about to let them see his tears. No. He had to get over it. Suck it up. Limit his spending. Perhaps he could limit it to ten euros? Was the alright? He wasn't sure. He responded that he would meet them in an hour and pulled himself up to get dressed.

Opening his closet was refreshing. He loved clothes. Everything about them. The material, mixing and matching. Working to trim them just to fall just perfectly on his frame. He honestly wished he could dress the world. Everyone deserved to look beautiful. Of course everyone already was, but some just didn't know how to dress. Others didn't know the right hair cut or style for their face. Still some didn't know how to do make up properly. He could teach them. He could do it all. But nobody called him. Four years of putting himself out there. Four years of silent rejection.

He pushed the idea out of his mind, clearing everything but the thought of clothes. He rummaged through until he found the perfect attire for his mood. Each time, it wasn't right. It was so frustrating. Nobody appreciated it. Nobody cared how often he changed, what a hassle it was to look so perfect every day. There were times that he would be close to tears. No wonder he hadn't gotten a job in fashion yet! Finally he decided on a pair of dark wash jeans, an cotton aqua long sleeve button down with a black pea coat and an accented scarf to pull it together. He smiled at himself in the mirror, turning every way to make sure he looked perfect. Satisfied, he moved on to his hair, deciding on a purposely messy bun. He opted for his dark rim glasses over contacts for today. His eyes were red enough from crying. He didn't need any extra irritation. He arranged his hair to fall perfectly to frame his face. He smiled, absolutely pleased.

He pulled on a pair of shoes to pull it together and ran out of the apartment toward the metro station. Line 3 from Louise Michel to Opéra and a short walk to the café. He couldn't help but let a small smile fall on his face. His Paris was beautiful. He never got tired of it. Even traveling around the world with Arthur, he had never found a place that brought him so much happiness. If he could just figure out finances and just get his break into the industry, he'd be set. No complaints.

He spotted Gilbert and Antonio sitting outside the café talking. He could hear Gil's laugh from down the street. It was so infectious. He paused for a moment to admire them. He couldn't help but think how Antonio would have snapped a shot for their magazine. Paris life. He sighed softly before continuing on, mentally preparing himself to keep a charming demeanor.

"Franny! How nice of you to join us!" Antonio giggled.

"Bonjour, mes amis!" He sang hugging Antonio and then Gilbert before sitting down.

"Took you long enough! How many times did you change? Be honest?" Gil asked giving him a small smirk.

"I'll have you know…" Francis trailed off. "Twenty."

"Oh my god!" Gilbert laughed. "You are something."

"Well you look gorgeous as usual," Antonio offered with a kind smile. "But you do still have to try so hard."

Francis joined in with their laughter. It was always so fun with his two best friends, even when they were picking on him. Never a dull moment. They would talk and laugh and joke. It always cheered him up as much as it made him self-conscious. The two always seemed to sense when it was becoming too much and seamlessly change the subject. He was so appreciative. Initially when they surprised him with a move to Paris, he had been upset, offended. He felt as though they didn't trust him that he was in fact okay. But he was so grateful now.

"Do you need me to spot you?" Gilbert asked, causing Francis' head to shoot up, only to realize he had been talking to Antonio.

"Yes," the man frowned. "You know, I still haven't gotten my check? Strange…" Antonio shook his head.

"That's terrible!" Francis knit his eye brows in concern. "You should really call them up!"

"Nah, I think it'll be okay. For the moment I'm doing pretty good. But I think they may be doing the same thing they did a few months back where they just gave me one big check! That's always fun."

"Yeah…" Francis trailed off.

He didn't understand how the two of them were okay with getting paid late or on a strange schedule. It was hard enough having the pay schedule he had. If it wasn't for the tips from the American tourists, he didn't know what he'd do. But Antonio could be paid a full two weeks to a month late and brush it off. Probably because he lived with Gilbert. Gilbert was obsessive about money. He budgeted more than anyone Francis had ever known except maybe Gilbert's youngest brother. Sometimes he wished that Gil would help him figure that out.

The waiter came by for orders and Francis stayed safe with a coffee and Nutella crepe. He couldn't spend too much and this would put him at 8 euros. He rested his chin in his hand as he watched people walk by, mentally critiquing their ensembles. He wanted nothing more than to make every single person feel beautiful and sexy. Nobody should feel badly about themselves. Not like that. He could even work with personal styles. Every body was different. Every body had different needs. Bodies were just a blank canvas and clothing, the paint. If only they'd give him a chance! They wouldn't even hire him to work in the stores.

"Francis? Hello? Earth to Francis?" Gilbert waved his hand in front of his face.

"Huh?" He sat back, blinking. What had he missed?

"You were zoned out," he frowned. "We were asking you if you're seriously only going to order a coffee and crepe?"

"Yes," Francis straightened up, trying to convince them he was fine.

"That's barely anything," Gilbert folded his arms.

"You're so skinny…" Antonio frowned.

"I'm okay. I had a big breakfast is all." He gave them a smile. "Tell me, how's the blog going? Anything fun? Did you find another cute shop?"

"Oh no, you don't!" Gilbert shook his head. "Don't change the subject. We've been friends since we were four. Do you really think you can lie to us?"

"I'm not lying! Look, I just…maybe I'm just a little down that I'm getting nowhere with the fashion industry. I can't even get hired at a clothing store!" He pouted. "I thought for sure by now I would be in. I just want to make the world beautiful!"

"I know," Antonio put his arm around him. "If it makes you feel any better, you can dress me up again! Gilbert too! Right, Gil?"

"You know I'm not into that. I already have awesome taste, so I don't need…"

"Gilbert, I'm asking you if Francis can dress you up. Doesn't that sound like fun?" He nudged his head toward Francis.

He could have died. He hated this. He shouldn't have said anything. He shouldn't have come out. He should have told him he was working or going out with his grandparents or something. Now he had to sit here while they felt sorry for him and deal with their pity. Not that he'd ever turn away a trip to the Champs Elysees. The stores, the industry. It was like putting a child in a toy store. But he knew they would hate it. Antonio would pretend to be happy and occasionally would even buy an outfit. Gilbert on the other hand, would grumble the whole time. He wished he could do it with someone who actually enjoyed fashion.

Gilbert glanced at Francis who tried to not look too glum. He didn't want to push him. "Yeah, okay. But I don't want to be there all day."

"Oh Francis! I don't know if I mentioned! I think it'd be so great if you met Lovi and Feli! We met them when we went to Italy! Remember how I told you about Lovi? How cute he is? And Feli? How Ludwig couldn't even talk around him? Remember? Remember?" Antonio leaned toward him with too much excitement in his face to be normal.

"Yes, you mentioned them," Francis folded his arms on the table and gave him a flirty smile. "And how are things with Lovi?"

Antonio's eyes went wide and a sleepy smile came across his face. He licked his lips. Francis could tell he was trying not to fall for the trick. He knew Francis was trying to deflect the attention. Francis knew it. But he didn't like to be the center of attention and they both knew it. He couldn't really sway Gilbert, though could he? But Antonio…Antonio was so easy.

"Stop," Gilbert frowned. "Franny, we care about you."

"I'm sorry, Gilbert, I can't hold back." Antonio apologized before grabbing Francis's arm. "They're going so well! He agreed to come visit! Can you imagine? Dios mio! I need to clean my room! It's a mess!"

"It wouldn't be a mess if you listened to me!" Gilbert insisted.

"I know, but it's so exhausting. Anyway I've been skyping him every evening! It's been so great. He's so cute! I do think we're getting somewhere. Gil, can we go back to Italy?" Antonio gasped. "Francis, that's what I was going to suggest! You should meet them because well, I think you'd like them! But Lovi, Lovi likes clothes and fashion too! He's an assistant for this big model company in Milan! I mean mostly he gets coffee and stuff, but he knows people! And Feli, Feli is an artist! Well they both are. Lovi sketches designs mostly though these days. But Feli is a painter!" Antonio beamed at him.

Francis was caught off guard. He couldn't speak. He was hurt. How long had Antonio been talking to this guy? Two years? Gilbert's brother had been with Feli for a year and a half now. Surely, surely he would have known before. Gilbert and Antonio knew what he wanted to do for a decade now. He couldn't help, but be hurt. He tried hard to fight back the tears welling in his eyes. How many times did he tell them how hard it was to break into the industry? And they knew someone! He pulled away from Antonio.

"You never thought to mention this before?" Francis managed to speak.

"Francis…" Antonio tried.

"No. No." He shook his head.

"Okay, I love you, Franny, but you're getting a little dramatic, don't you think?" Gilbert started.

"Tell me, Gilbert, Antonio, tell me what it was like for you when you met a scout for a travel magazine that just so happened to like what you both did. Tell me, was that a great feeling? Was it nice that I told you? Two years and you didn't tell me." He shook his head wishing his order would be out already.

"In my defense, Lovino doesn't really talk much if it's not sarcasm…" Gilbert held his hands up.

"But you did know."

"Eventually…" He muttered.

"Lovi didn't just come out and offer what he does," Antonio defended himself. "He really is a really private person. He doesn't really talk much until you get to know him. And even then you gotta really keep at him to kinda break the ice. I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner. I just…you know I'm forgetful."

"And you know now." Gilbert offered.

"And he's coming soon! Maybe. I don't know when. But I…I could send him your portfolio?"

Francis tapped his foot still fighting back tears. He had been struggling for so long and they knew someone. He was so close. He didn't know whether to be happy or upset. Maybe he would take up the offer to dress them up. He could use it to his advantage, couldn't he? Pictures to show how good of an eye he had? He could put things together and make them model the clothes. Or better yet! He could!

"Yes. Actually, my friends," he took their hands, a big smile on his face.

"Oh no, I do not like that smile…" Gilbert started.

"You can both help me with that portfolio!"

"Yeah! That could be fun!" Antonio smiled, his eyes shining.

"What would this mean…?" Gilbert narrowed his eyes.

Francis pulled back as the waiter arrived with their orders. He smiled and they all politely thanked him for the food. Francis couldn't stop smiling. This was the perfect payback and the best way for them to help him. Wasn't that what they were always wanting to do? Make him happy? Oh yes, this would definitely be good. He waited for the man to walk away back into the café before he continued.

"I'll take you up on that offer for the clothing trip." Francis beamed. "And Antonio, darling, do you have your camera?"

"Um…" Antonio glanced at Gilbert nervously. "Yes."

"Perfect." Francis took a sip of his coffee, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "We're having a photo shoot."

"I don't know if we'll get away with that…" Gilbert started.

"You'll be one of my models, Gilbert," he batted his lashes at him. "But of course, I will be the main event. Those agents won't know what hit them!"

* * *

"I'm not coming out," Gilbert called from the stall.

Francis crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. Antonio glanced at him from the bench he was sitting on, waiting with his camera. Francis returned his glance and gestured toward the dressing room. Antonio sighed and walked over to the door.

"Come on, Gilbert. It's okay. Please just come out so we can all finish and go home?" He pleaded.

"No. I told you, Francis, I do not like this outfit." Gilbert snapped.

"Well let me at least see it on you!" Francis cooed, joining Antonio by the door.

The door opened revealing Gilbert's new attire. Francis and Antonio could barely contain their laughter. The jeans were entirely too tight on him. He really didn't have the frame for them. The button up cardigan over the pale yellow shirt washed him out even more. The outfit was so horrible in the first place. They had both looked at him like he was crazy when he'd insisted on it. He just wanted a picture of him wearing something hideous just for payback.

"Strike a pose!" Francis smirked.

"I'm gonna kill you." Gilbert glared.

"Love you too!" Francis winked.

"I'm sorry, Gil…" Antonio frowned, going to snap the shot.

Francis stopped him. "No, stop looking like you're going to murder me and look like you're going to seduce someone in the grocery store."

"I'm serious. I'll kill you." Gilbert hissed.

"Just do it!" Antonio groaned.

Gilbert sent one last glare at Francis before giving Antonio an exaggerated flirty smile. Antonio snapped the shot and Gilbert went back to muttering to himself, as he disappeared into the dressing room once more. Francis wanted to make exaggerated before and after photos. He wanted to show the transformations capable in people's life. If he could go from suburban dad to urban bachelor, then wouldn't that show how talented he was? Gilbert had looked so awful! And now he was going to look so good. It was going to be amazing.

He held his hands to his mouth as Gilbert emerged once more. He could almost cry. The dark wash jeans, the v neck, the jacket. He was so gorgeous. Francis paused Antonio once more, but this time to adjust the clothing on his friend. He worked diligently to make fold the sleeves up, mess Gilbert's hair in just the right way. He finished with a smile.

"You are so hot right now," Francis winked, before walking back to Antonio. "Okay, look sexy!"

Francis was so excited. This was turning out to be so good. He turned around and walked through the store. He loved the smell of new clothes. The dies were like perfume. He hummed softly to himself trying to pick out the best outfits. This was going to work. He was going to take photos as a model now. Lovino could give them to his bosses and he'd be in! It would be perfect. If only he could get in…

He decided on the clothing he wanted and rushed into the dressing room. He could easily make twenty different outfits for different events with just the small amount number of clothing he'd grabbed. This was going to work. He was sure of it. His heart as racing. This was easy. This was how it should be. Why couldn't this have been available sooner? He took a deep breath, and checked himself in the mirror. The clothes hung off his body so perfectly. Tight and loose in all the right places. He smiled and exited the room. Antonio whistled, instructing poses. Francis lived for this. Each click, each flash, he was closer to his dream.

Francis reluctantly put the clothing back, walking out with Gilbert and Antonio. It hurt to leave. He wanted to tell people when they were picking out the wrong things. He wanted them to look better than ever before. He could even tailor the clothing! His heart tugged, but he'd be there soon enough. He had at least fifty shots. Antonio promised to go through and edit them and send the best fifteen to Lovino that night. Francis agreed bidding them farewell as he ran to catch the metro to work.

* * *

It wasn't that Francis hated his job. He didn't mind bartending. He loved talking to people, especially tourists. The hotel next door brought them in like moths to a flame. Even when he was waiting tables for patrons who'd ordered food, he didn't mind it. It was just this job wasn't supposed to be four years. It had been a quick catch shortly after he moved back home with his grandparents. His hope had been to do it while he worked odd jobs in fashion until he was able to catch a break. Much like Arthur had worked as a waiter until his band got taken up. It just hadn't happened that way.

Tonight was dead. There a few tourists at a table talking amongst themselves, though they weren't ordering much. Ordinarily his boss would have made them leave, but what was the harm? The longer they were there the more they'd buy, or that was usually how it went. Slow nights, they let people stay even if they hadn't bought anything in hours.

He watched them from the counter. He could tell they were trying to look classy, but he couldn't help but notice the flaws. If he could just…no. He'd tried that before. He wasn't about to get another complaint by someone ungrateful for the fashion advice. This was Paris though. In his mind fashion should be on everyone's mind. Was this not a city known for fashion? For elegance? For class? He sighed to himself. It was no use.

He sat back and played with his phone. Antonio had sent him an email with all the photos of the day. He couldn't help but smile. God, he looked so good! He tried so hard. If he didn't get any offers…maybe he'd try to just sleep with someone to get in? That worked, did it not? Hadn't heard of people doing that? The idea had always made him feel sick. He'd only been with Arthur. It had been four years. It probably wouldn't be pleasant. But if he got what he wanted, would that be so bad? He was tired of going nowhere.

He was about to pocket his phone and close up the bar when a notification went off for Facebook. He frowned and opened the app. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach when he saw it as a friend request from none other than Arthur Kirkland. He couldn't breathe. Memories flooded his mind. No. No…he thought he'd blocked him? Gilbert had done it actually. Or he said he did. He'd stolen his phone from him and set up blocks. It could be possible he'd remade an account? He wanted to cry. He didn't need this. Not now. No.

"Are you okay?" One of the tourists asked him gently.

Francis looked up. He hoped he hadn't kept them waiting. "N-no, sorry. Are you ready to close the account?"

"Yes, please."

Francis rang up the bill and watched them go. The bar was empty now. He was alone. Just him and his thoughts, and now Arthur, as he closed up. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss him. They'd had so much fun in the beginning. He'd seen the world with him. Nothing had brought more joy to him than the look on Arthur's face when he'd gotten a response from that band in Manchester agreeing to take them along. It had been fun. But he'd also seen Arthur drunk for the first time, stoned for the first time. Walked in on him snorting lines. Why did he believe him? Why did he ever believe him?

 _"I promise I won't do anything stronger than weed, Francis!"_

The liar. But Francis had been the idiot to believe it. Just like he believed the first time Arthur called him names that it wouldn't happen again. That it was because he was drunk. The first time he threw something at him. The first time he shoved him into a wall in a drunk rage. Arthur had apologized a million times. Francis had believed him. Just like he believed his parents. Just like everyone he'd dated.

Antonio and Gilbert were right. He shouldn't date until he had his issues worked out. It wasn't good for him. He was in no position to be that vulnerable. But being alone was terrifying. Gilbert had threatened him with a spray bottle at first. Francis had broken down and Gilbert dropped it. Antonio sat with him all night sometimes while he cried. They'd been there from the beginning. _Work on yourself first. You need to heal before you do get involved._

Francis' mind was running a million miles a minute as he walked to the metro station. What should he do? He knew what Gilbert, Antonio, his grandparents and his counselor would all say. Delete the request. Block the account. Move on. Don't focus on it. But that was easier said than done. Even as he took the 3 to Louise Michel, his mind didn't stop. He tried to look over the pictures again. He couldn't focus.

He was trembling as he walked into his apartment. Maybe he could just look at the account? See what he'd been up to? Maybe that would be enough. Maybe that would show him that he didn't need him. That he shouldn't have him in his life. He took a deep breath and sat on the couch. He needed to talk to someone. He wouldn't wake his grandparents. Gilbert? No. He didn't want a lecture. Antonio. He needed Antonio.

"Hello?" Antonio's groggy voice came through the line.

"Arthur sent me a request on Facebook. I don't…I don't know what to do. I mean I know what I need to do, but I don't know?" Francis pulled his knees to his chest.

"Francis…" He could hear him sitting up in bed. "Remember what we've told you. What your grandparents have told you. What you've told yourself. You need to delete the request. Block the account."

"I thought Gilbert already blocked it!" Francis panicked.

"He did. He must have made another account. He's toxic, Francis. I know you think you love him, but it's toxic. And you aren't well enough yet." Antonio's voice was firm, yet gentle.

"I know. I know. I just…" Francis took a shuddering breath.

"I know. Children who grew up in abusive situations tend to get into these kinds of relationships because you weren't shown anything better. But you got out, Francis. You got to get out and survive! Your grandparents took care of you."

"You told. You told and you broke the promise." Francis tugged at his hair.

"And you were helped. You are so close with your grandparents now. They love you. They showed you what it's supposed to be like." Antonio reassured him.

"But…but…but what if I don't deserve that?"

"You do. You didn't do anything wrong. You are strong. You are a survivor. He is toxic."

"But he wasn't always that way."

"But he is." Antonio paused. "I'm coming over."

"No." Francis protested. "No, no, I'm okay."

"Are you? It's okay to need people. It's okay."

"I'll delete it. I'll delete it and block it and go to bed." Francis said, eyes clenched.

"Ground yourself. Listen to my voice."

"I don't need this…" Francis mumbled.

"You sound panicked. You called me, Francis. That's good. That's really good. You're doing so good."

"I'm okay."

"Please let me come over? I'll make you some hot chocolate and we can talk and we'll go to sleep and I'll make sure you're okay." Antonio pressed.

"I'm okay," Francis' voice was a whisper.

"I'm coming over." Antonio was firm.

"No!" Francis begged.

"It's okay."

"I don't need help!"

"Everyone needs help sometimes. It's okay."

"Antonio?" Francis started.

"Yes?"

"You can come over." Francis whispered.

"Okay."

Antonio talked to Francis until he got to the metro. Francis was so scared to be alone. What if Arthur found him? What if his parents did? What if they came together? His mind ran wild with the thoughts. He couldn't calm down. He couldn't think about anything other than how scared he was. If he could find him…But he loved him. No. No, you can't love people and do what they did. No.

He stared at his phone, his eyes fixated on Arthur's face, his name. His finger went between accept and decline, back and forth, back and forth. A knock on the door saved him from the dilemma. He pulled himself up and opened the door to Antonio who immediately hugged him. Francis sobbed into his shoulder.

"Shhhh, shhhh, it's okay. I've got you. It's okay." Antonio reassured him.

He walked him to the couch and held him still letting him cry. Francis knew this was right. He had picked the right person. Gilbert wasn't good with crying. His grandparents worried too much. Antonio was perfect. He was calm and patient. He never talked badly about Arthur or his parents or the other toxic people in Francis' past. He just talked to him. Let him cry or vent. Validated him.

"I'm scared," Francis finally said.

"I know. It's okay to be scared."

"What if he finds me?"

"I don't think that will happen."

"But what if he does?" Francis pulled away.

"Then you do what we've talked about. You don't talk to him privately. Let it be public if you do have to talk to him. If he comes to here, you don't answer the door. You call the police or me or Gil. But I don't think he will. It's just a request on a website. It'll be okay." Antonio smiled.

"But what if…" Francis trailed off.

"We can ask what if forever, but we need to focus on now, okay? That's the only thing we can do that's productive. And you have a plan for the future, right?" Francis nodded. "Can I make you hot chocolate?" Francis nodded again.

Antonio smiled and took his hand leading him to the kitchen. Francis watched him prepare everything. It was calming. It was a distraction. Antonio was here. He wasn't alone. His friend would protect him. The cup was warm in his hands. The chocolate tasted so good, so rich, creamy. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He wasn't alone. He was safe. Antonio was with him. He used the techniques his counselor had give him. Grounding himself in anxiety. Why did this keep happening?

Antonio took the phone from Francis' hand. He hadn't even realized he still had it. He watched as Antonio opened the app, went to requests and declined. He blocked the account and reported for harassment. Wasn't that a bit far? He didn't speak. Antonio put an arm around him.

"It's okay." Antonio smiled. "Are you ready to go to bed? It's late."

"I don't want to be alone," Francis whispered.

"You won't be," Antonio smiled. "I'll hold you."

"Won't Lovino be mad?" Francis' brows knit.

"No." Antonio frowned. "He'd understand that I'm doing it as a friend. There's nothing else attached. We trust each other. That's what healthy relationships are."

"Arthur got mad when I'd hug you…"

"Oh Franny…" Antonio hugged him.

He pulled him up from the couch and led him to the bedroom before crawling into bed. Francis took off his glasses and changed into bed clothes before laying down. He curled into his friend, feeling his thoughts slowly calm along with his heart. Antonio would protect him.

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading! Please review!**_


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